Clouds from the past
by princegeorge
Summary: When the Dowager Countess tells Carson she wants a word with the housekeeper, Mrs Hughes fears it's not about the household.
1. Chapter 1

Clouds from the past

A/N I wanted both the Dowager Countess and Mrs Hughes. Now there's a challenge.

Hope you like it…

Chapter 1

Secrets not buried.

'Mrs Hughes!' the butler barked as he strode into the servants room.

'The Dowager Countess asked to see you in the drawing room.'

'I'll go right away Mr Carson,' Mrs Hughes answered, got up and left.

She knew Mr Carson assumed the Dowager had a complaint about the household, and since any of the upstairs should find anything amiss about whatever made him behave like a general in full fury, she wasn't too worried about that.

Instead, she felt much worse. The Dowager had never before spoke to her personally. She had a feeling she was in for trouble.

She knocked and entered the drawing room.

'You asked to see me, Milady?' she said.

The formidable Dowager rose from her chair.

'Indeed,' the old lady said. 'Come in Mrs Hughes, and sit down, please.'

She did, feeling terrified.

The Dowager made a lot of work of sitting down, carefully draping her skirts over the sofa.

'I am so glad you were able to see me , Mrs Hughes,' she said smoothly.

'You must be very occupied with your chores and duties as a housekeeper.'

'I can manage, milady.'

She didn't like the way this was going at all.

'Mrs Hughes, you have reached the highest position a woman in service can reach. I suppose you are happy with that.'

'I am, milady,' she answered, unsure of what was going on.

'The staff respect you, taking you as an example. You are an impeccable servant. But I believe they would be appalled if they knew better.' the Dowager said, smiling.

'I don't know about that, milady,' she said, assuming the worst.

'But I do, Elsie.'

She closed her eyes. Hearing her given name told her she was lost.

'I know all about your filthy dealings with my late husband, Elsie. I don't blame you,' the Dowager waved her hands, 'you were very young and he was the Earl of Grantham. Every simpleminded peasant girl would be impressed by that.'

The Dowager smiled at her, but it was a grim smile.

She sighed.

'What is it you want from me, milady?' she asked.

A/N Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Clouds from the past Chapter 2

**A/N Thank you so much for reading this and leaving such encouraging reviews! You made my day and I love you all. Nothing's mine; they're all Mr Fellowes's. **

'What is it you want from me, milady?'

The Dowager smiled again.

'Nothing too complicated, Elsie. I like the idea that there's someone in this house able to be my eyes and ears at places where I am unable to go.'

Somehow Mrs Hughes got the feeling it would not be as easy as that.

'But why now, after all these years, milady?' she asked, curious in spite of the situation.

'Well, my first thought after I found out about your disgusting behaviour was of course to send you away at once. But I realised you were somewhat less stupid than the others, and I had a feeling you might actually be useful to me someday. One never knows what the future brings, after all,' the Dowager said.

' …Yes, milady,' she whispered.

'Good girl Elsie. I am so glad we understand each other. Now, back to the matter at hand. I have recently discovered my husband was in the habit of keeping a diary. However, one volume appears to be missing. Since it's nowhere to be found, I suspect it might be in one of the old desks and dressers that are stocked in the attics of this house.' The Dowager shot her a stern look. 'I want you to find it for me.'

'But, milady, I can't just go up and search the attics, some of the staff might question me about that, asking what….'

'I am quite confident you will find a way to explain yourself Elsie!' the Dowager snapped. "You have proved yourself to be a sly little tart after all. I will not have contradiction or sorry excuses from you! That is all, you may go now.'

Mrs Hughes rushed out of the room, in utter confusion.

Somehow she managed to reach her office. She slammed the door shut and sank down at her desk, burying her face in her hands. What a mess, what a terrible mess. She had always wondered why she hadn't been fired at the time, now she knew the answer and she bitterly wished she had been sacked. She remembered the old Earl of Grantham. He had forced himself on her and another young maid. Of course they were helpless, had no way of refusing him. Jean, the other girl, fell pregnant and was sent away. At least she had escaped that fate.

Someone knocked at her door and came in.

'Mrs Hughes?' the butler said. Oh no, she thought. Not him, not now…but she stood up and put a smile on her face. 'Yes, Mr Carson?'

'I was wondering about your meeting with the Dowager. It's very unusual for her to want to see the housekeeper,' he said. 'Well, she did so today,' she said airily.

'Yes, well. She did. I was wondering though…did she have any questions about the household? Complaints?' As if the world would stop turning if she did.

'Not at all, Mr Carson,' she smiled.

'Then why would she want to…' She lost her patience and cut him off. 'It's not important, Mr Carson. Nothing for you to worry about.' At least those last words were true, she thought. 'Now, if you will excuse me, I am quite busy.'

'Of course Mrs Hughes,' he said curtly, and left. She turned to her ledgers but found the figures dancing before her eyes. How on earth was she going to search through all the abandoned furniture in the attics, without anyone noticing? There were quite a lot of trunks and cases as well. And she had a feeling Mr Carson might be causing her even more trouble, what with his silly devotion to The Family.

**A/N Hope you like it…please keep fuelling me with reviews! I find it helps...For now, Merry Christmas to all of you, love you, george**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**A/N A very merry Christmas to whoever is reading this! I love you all. Lots of dust in this chapter I'm afraid…**

Mrs Hughes shut the door of another attic room behind her and pulled her handkerchief from her mouth. After she had started searching for the missing diary, weeks ago now, she had developed a nasty cough, due to the unbelievable amounts of dust in the attic rooms. She had been surprised however, by the beautiful pieces of furniture that were stocked in the attic rooms. When the Dowager first ordered her to go hunt for the book, a small – a very small- part of her mind has asked; Why bother at all….? It's missing, no one else knows about it, it's probably behind a drawer in an old dresser stored forever at the attics, falling apart.

Now she wasn't so sure. Lady Edith might like to have one of those beautiful, stately old desks one day, with their many drawers and compartments. Good heavens, Mrs Hughes would love to have one herself.

'Mrs Hughes, are you there? Mr Carson has been looking for you!' a maid shouted. She sighed, and for once forgot to berate the girl for shouting.

'Thank you Ruby,' she answered, suddenly feeling very tired. Of course he was looking for her. He had been doing so several times every day for the last three weeks, starting the very minute he found her out of his sight.

There had been another summons from the Dowager, also delivered to her by Mr Carson and she knew for sure the old lady had done so on purpose, because Carson, who almost worshipped the ground the Crawley's walked on, had been beside himself with anxiety. Whenever she turned around, she would find him hovering behind her, looking worried.

'Mrs Hughes, I'm sure I do not need to remind you I must be informed immediately should the family upstairs find anything amiss!' he had barked more than once. 'Where were you? Do you need assistance? What are you doing in the attics?'

How did he know about her visits to the attics? He must have been following her then! From that moment on they had been playing a rather strange variation of hide and seek.

Mrs Hughes had always liked the butler well enough, in spite of his silly devotion to the family, she sometimes teased him with that. But now she began to find him a real nuisance. Didn't the man have other things to do?

'Just my annual inspection of the attics Mr Carson,' she had lied. 'To make sure everything is stored properly.' 'I wasn't aware that task is part of your duties,' he had said.

'Well, I have been doing it for years,' she blurted out another blatant lie, 'I'm surprised you never noticed?' 'So am I,' he said, raising an eyebrow, and his glare had made her very nervous. She had been feeling his eyes on her back ever since. He had been a very, very unnerving presence.

Where have you been. I want a word. Dowager. You look dishevelled.

'I'm sorry Mr Carson, I didn't sleep very well.'

He cornered her after breakfast; usually she set the maids at work and then took an hour or so for her paperwork, lately she used the time to go search the attics. He had noticed. He knocked on her door before she had the chance to slip out. He wanted a word. He needed the tablecloth counts. He offered her assistance. He asked about her meeting with the Dowager Countess; just politeness of course, it wasn't his business. But if she needed advice, he ….

'Mr Carson, would you excuse me please, I am quite busy.' She closed the door and sighed.

She took the wet towel she brought with her on her attic searches and used it to wipe the dust and cobwebs from her dark dress, then took a small mirror from her pocket to check her appearance. She wiped dust and grime from her face and removed a spider from her hair. Putting it gently on the floor, she smiled at the tiny creature. 'You don't know how lucky you are, not having to face an upset Mr Carson,' she whispered. The spider turned around and ran back to the attic door. 'I see you have met him,' Mrs Hughes said. The spider turned its head, smiled at her and winked, four eyes, before slipping under the door. Mrs Hughes couldn't help herself and grinned. Her youth in the Highlands had been filled with ghosts, fairies, creatures in Lochs, witches, banshees and charmed animals. She was happy to discover that kind of fantasy based comfort hadn't left her, and she felt somewhat less worried when she descended the stairs to meet Mr Carson in his pantry.

However, the thunderous look on his face made her shudder. 'Mrs Hughes, where have you been? I demand to know what's going on! Does this have something to do with the Dowager Countess? Why has she asked to see you? I must be informed about everything concerning this house immediately Mrs Hughes!'

She couldn't help herself. 'Not always, Mr Carson,' she said and left the room, leaving him speechless.

To her own surprise, he was out of her hair for the next day and she took the opportunity to sneak to the attic and search two trunks and a few leather briefcases she had found earlier.

The trunks were a disappointment. Filled with very old sheets and old fashioned dresses they were. She took the first of the old briefcases, turned it upside down and shook the contents out. And there it was….could it be…? A small, square but thick book, with a dark red linen cover and a lock on it. She picked it up_. Patrick Crawley_ , it said in almost faded script.

It was the missing diary, and she had found it.

**A/N She found it! **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks to everyone who left reviews, knowing people actually read my drabbles makes me feel so proud! The Dowager enters this chapter.**

It was the missing diary, and she had found it.

For nearly a minute she just stared at the thing that had Mr Carson drive her up the wall with his endless questions, Mrs Patmore offering her honeyed tea for her cough, Anna brushing cobwebs from her hair (thank heavens it had been Anna noticing them, the thought of miss O'Brien's comments at such an occasion actually made her shiver), and some of the maids, whose rooms were at the end of the corridor, had come to tell her about the big rats they had heard nibbling away in the attics.

At least that was all over now, and Mrs Hughes decided boldly she would keep the two beautiful, embroidered batiste nightgowns she had found the week before, as a reward.

She put the small book in her pocket, left the room and for the last time brushed dust and grime from her dress.

Two more blissful days passed by before Mr Carson entered her office one morning when she was doing paperwork, and informed her the Dowager would like to have a word.

'Thank you Mr Carson,' she smiled, but remained at her desk.

He threw her a look as if he expected her to cause the downfall of the House.

'I don't think we should keep the Dowager Countess waiting,' he pointed out.

'Nor do I Mr Carson, I'm just about ready checking the bills, I will go see her in a minute, I promise,' she said, picking up her pencil.

'Very well then,' he said grudgingly and left.

She sighed with relief. She could not have gotten the diary from her desk drawer with him standing over her. She quickly slipped it in her pocket and since she was indeed almost finished going over the weekly bills, she completed the work before heading for the drawing room five minutes later.

She knocked and entered and found the Dowager there, but before she could say anything the old lady spoke.

'There you are at last, you took your time I must say. And what am I to make of that? It's been weeks since I asked you to do something simple for me and yet I haven't got any results. Do I have to remind you again what's at stake, Elsie?'

'Milady..,' she began, but the Dowager seemed to be in an exceptionally bad mood and kept on ranting.

'A few words from me to either Mr Carson, ór my son if I have to,' the old lady fumed, 'and you're out of work Elsie! And no pretty references, it's back to the gutters for you!'

Mrs Hughes felt her cheeks grow hot with anger.

'There's no need to talk to me like that,' she whispered, but the Dowager Countess went on.

'….and that's where you belong, you miserable little…'

'Don't speak to me like that!' Mrs Hughes spat, surprising herself, and even the old lady was silent for a second, but no longer.

'You will do as I tell you Elsie!' she hissed.

'For that diary, I have….' She reached for her pocket but was stopped short by the sound of the door swaying open. Lord Grantham walked in, eyeing the sight before him curiously.

'Oh Mama, I had no idea you were in here, I'm sorry to interrupt anything,' he said gallantly.

'And Mrs Hughes. Is anything the matter?'

The two women smiled politely at him, if he noticed any red cheeks or fiery eyes at all he didn't comment on it. 'Not at all, Milord,' Mrs Hughes said.

'Will that be all, Milady?'

'Yes, thank you Mrs Hughes,' the Dowager said.

Mrs Hughes left the room and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She felt tears pricking her eyes, tears of anger they were. That old…. For the first time since this thing started she felt red hot anger, and wondered what the diary might content that had the Dowager so eager to have it. She pulled it from her pocket and studied the lock. A very simple one it was. She stared at it for a long time, a tear fell from her eye and she brushed it away. A sudden wave of anger and hurt washed over her and she bit her lip, then took the scissors from her key ring and forced the lock.

It opened easily.

**A/N Please please…. tell me what you think! **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**A/N Thank you all who reviewed and read! I love you all. Not much fireworks in here, a few hairy moments though. **

Elsie held her breath while opening the diary. She found the handwriting easy to read. Now was not the time for that, however. Work to do. She closed the book and placed it under her pillow. No, that wouldn't do. She picked it up again and brought it to her chest of drawers, putting it in the one drawer that could be locked.

What surprised her the most was that she didn't feel any shame about what she was going to do, violating the late Earl's privacy like that. He had violated hers, after all.

She checked her appearance in the mirror and smoothed her hair. Her cheeks were still flushed, but she supposed it gave her a healthy glow, even if she was feeling exhausted without knowing why.

In the servant's hall, Mrs Patmore didn't need a second look.

'What are you doing here Mrs Hughes, you should be in bed! You look like death warmed over! I told you to be careful with that nasty cough you've had past weeks, and look at you now. You are ill, off to bed with you!'

'I'm perfectly all right, Mrs Patmore,' she protested.

'I think Mrs Patmore is right,' Anna added. 'You could use some rest Mrs Hughes, you're really not looking well. The house is not very busy at the moment, we should be able to handle things, since you probably are a few days ahead with your work. As usual.'

'Cheek, Anna,' she smiled but she gave in. 'All right then, since you all seem to agree. I'm going to be ill.'

'I'll inform Mr Carson,' Anna said.

'I will have one of the maids bring you a tray, in a few hours,' Mrs Patmore told her. 'First you should get some sleep.'

'Thank you,' she smiled at both of them, and left for her room.

She was indeed feeling a bit under the weather, she realised while undressing and slid between the cool sheets.

'Mrs Hughes?' Anna at the door.

'Come in Anna,' she called from her bed. The girl popped in.

'Mrs Patmore wanted me to bring you this,' she said, holding up a hot water bottle.

'Let me put it at your feet….there you are. Sleep well,' and she left.

Elsie curled around the hot water bottle. Dear Anna and Beryl, they were so good to her…

She woke up to the sound of someone knocking at her door.

'Are you awake?' Mrs Patmore asked.

'I am now, come in,' she smiled.

Mrs Patmore entered, blushing slightly. 'I'm sorry to wake you, but it's past seven and I think you should eat something,' she said, placing a tray on the small table. 'Tea, toast and orange juice. That should get you going again, Dr Clarkson said.'

'Good heavens, you didn't call the doctor for a wee cold, did you?'

'No no, I remembered him saying so when her Ladyship had the flu last month. I'd say you're looking a bit better already.'

'I am feeling somewhat better as well. I think I'll get back to work tomorrow.'

'No, you will not, Elsie,' Mrs Patmore said, sounding her strictest. 'You are to stay in bed for another day and then we'll see. Lady Grantham and the young ladies will be having lunch over at Crawley House, and his Lordship will be in London all day for business. You will sleep in for a change, and Anna and me will make sure you get what you need. Just enjoy a peaceful day for once. Catch up on your reading, rest and have naps. Mr Carson's orders I should add.'

While talking, the cook had brought her a basin to freshen her up a bit, shook up the pillows and made the sheets.

'You don't have to do that, Beryl.'

'I know that. Anna will serve you breakfast at nine or so. Goodnight, dear.'

With over ten hours of undisturbed sleep, Elsie really felt better the next morning. Anna had brought her breakfast and had even been fussing over her like Beryl the evening before. She found she didn't mind. A day to spend in bed, corset-free and wearing a crisp clean nightgown. What was it Beryl had said last night? Catch up on your reading. Mr Carson's orders. I might be doing just that, she thought to herself and went to get the diary from her chest of drawers.

Only interrupted by Anna with a tray of lunch ('Toast and tea and lots of fresh fruits, Mrs Patmore is adamant that's what you need.' 'But the fresh fruits are for the upstairs.' 'Yes, but the upstairs aren't here today, are they.' 'I see.'), Elsie had finished the diary just before a knock on her door announced supper.

She called them in and to her surprise it was Mr Carson carrying the tray. Quickly she slipped the book under her sheets. 'Mr Carson, to what do I owe the pleasure?' she asked, genuinely surprised.

'I should offer you my apologies Mrs Hughes. I must have been a nuisance to you, especially since you were not well. All I could think of when the Dowager Countess asked to speak to you was that she must have complaints, while a complete different matter was at hand. I am very sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me,' he said guiltily.

'Oh, that's…of course you are forgiven Mr Carson,' she answered, feeling very uncomfortable.

'I took the liberty to ask the Dowager about it yesterday, after your conversation with her. She told me about it in confidence. Your secret is safe with me.' He smiled warmly at her.

She felt her head spin and her heart skipped a beat.

'It's…thank you Mr Carson. What…how much did her Ladyship tell you?'

'Oh, no details, just that you two are planning a surprise party for Lady Edith's birthday. An excellent idea! That young lady certainly needs some loving attention.'

Somehow he managed to keep a straight face.

'That she does, Mr Carson. And I will be up again tomorrow morning.'

'You shouldn't..'

'I am well, Mr Carson. The rest and care I received were just what I needed. I am going to have another long night of sleep, and I'll see you at breakfast,' she smiled.

'Very well then. Good night Mrs Hughes.'

She let out a sigh of relieve after he left and fell back on her pillows. Good heavens! That man was going to be the death of her. The image of him asking the Dowager about their meetings, probably just minutes after His Lordship, unbeknown to him had prevented a very nasty shouting party between them, made her feel dizzy. For the first time she felt something akin of appreciation for the nasty old bat. It took some presence of mind to mislead Mr Carson like that.

Good, Elsie thought while settling into bed once more. She is going to need all her presence of mind when I see her again.

**A/N It seems Elsie is about to embrace her Inner Dowager… **

**Happy new year! x george **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**A/N Finally, a glimpse of that infamous diary…**

She was summoned two days later. However, the message was delivered in a much different way.

'Mrs Hughes, the Dowager Countess asked to see you,' Mr Carson informed her, offering a hearty smile. She felt slightly guilty towards him while heading for the drawing room. But not for long.

She entered the room and smiled. 'You asked to see me Milady?'

'Yes Elsie, I did,' the Dowager said, after making sure the door was firmly closed. 'I find I am getting impatient with you. Have you anything to report?'

'Yes, I have Milady,' Elsie said.

The old lady sat upright in her chair immediately .

'What did you say! Have you found the book? Or what is it?' she asked anxiously.

Elsie smiled again. She found she was having a little too much fun with this. How inappropriate for a respectable housekeeper like herself….but there it was.

'Go on, say something!' the old lady urged her.

She took a deep breath.

'Well,' she said slowly, 'I always wondered why we had to keep the gin under lock and key all the time. Now I know.'

The effect was astonishing. Lady Grantham went pale and her hands grasped the armrests.

She stared at her in shock, her eyes filled with absolute, pure horror.

'I…you….,' she whispered.

'And the stablemen. Really, milady,' Elsie added softly.

'I didn't…I never have…'

'I went to the stables the other day and I actually found an old bottle stashed away, right at the place it was described to be.'

The Dowager looked as if she might faint any moment. Elsie felt a pang of conscience, but suppressed it.

'Now I understand why you husband couldn't keep his hands off the maids,' she whispered.

'Because you were a disgustingly little tramp, you were,' the Dowager hissed. She seemed to have regained her spirit.

'That's why, Elsie!' she spat.

Elsie smiled and shook her head.

'I'm sorry milady, but that doesn't do anymore. In case you didn't understand, I did find the diary. And I was ready to hand it over to you, the last time we met. Lord Grantham came in, I had to leave and I was so angry with your insults, I took the book and I read it.'

'You didn't! You miserable, filthy…. Dear me, I can't say the word!'

'Whore?' Elsie offered.

'That's…yes! I'll inform Mr Carson and His Lordship right away and you are finished, Elsie. I will have you…'

The Dowager still didn't quite seem to fully understand, so Elsie explained.

'I don't think so, milady,' she said, 'because if you do, I might go visit sir Richard Carlyle. He has no reason to be particularly kind to the Crawley's. His Lordship was very detailed in his reports and it's not all about gin. I'm sorry.'

Lady Grantham knew when to surrender.

'What do you want, money? I suppose so, that's all you lower class people are interested in, ' she spat.

'No, milady. Not quite like that. Do you remember Jean?'

**A/N Please review! x george**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**A/N Lady Violet's thoughts, or: You can't keep a good *** down.**

'Do you remember Jean?' the wretched woman had asked.

She didn't, and she told her so.

'Your husband speaks very fond of her in his diary. Would that be all, milady?'

'Yes. Please, go away.'

Violet just couldn't believe the mess she had gotten herself into. She had never expected this.

She had been convinced the maid – oh yes she may be housekeeper now, but a farm girl she remained in Violet's eyes- would find the diary for her and then would be utterly relieved to hand it over, knowing her sordid secrets to be safe.

That was how she planned it, and then everything went pear-shaped.

The Dowager Countess wasn't used to things not going the way she planned them, and she carefully recalled all the conversations she'd had with the woman.

Hm. It would seem even the likes of her had some rudimental sense of pride. Violet remembered her mother's lessons on the servant matter.

'The working class are different from us, my dear. There's no need to pity them. They do not experience cold or pain the way we do. They are simple souls and have lesser needs.'

Through the years, Violet had found her mother's mid 19th century information somewhat lacking if not quite true, and so she had no choice but to blame herself for the present fiasco.

Apparently she had threw her one insult too many.

She sighed and put her mind to work again.

Elsie had found the diary and she did not want to hand it in. Worse, she had read it. Violet had been shocked when she had made those remarks about gin and stable men…good heavens. She knew about the gin of course… but what had she been doing with the stable men? She probably just played cards with them, over a drink….but she wasn't sure. Several years were blurred in her mind. Heaven only knew what else she had forgotten.

Now what?

The door opened and Carson walked in, carrying a tray with tea.

'Excuse me milady. Mrs Hughes asked me to serve you tea, she had a feeling you could use a nice cup. She knows you shared the secret with me. Might I be of assistance?'

Violet nearly fainted and stared at him in horror.

'Milady?' He looked uneasy.

'Oh…ah yes Carson, thank you. Thank you. You, eh, you wish to help me?'

'If I'm not being too impertinent milady. I wish Lady Edith the best of birthday parties, that's all, she certainly deserves one.' He explained.

Violet relaxed almost visibly. She had forgotten the lie she had made up for the butler.

'Edith, yes of course. She deserves it, that's certain. You are absolutely right. But remember, no one else is to know about it, Carson! Not even my son and his wife. You have to promise me. Will you do that?'

'Of course Milady. As I told Mrs Hughes before; the secret is perfectly safe with me.'

'I'm glad. There is actually something you could do, Carson. I feel a bit guilty asking so much time from Mrs Hughes, I know she must be busy what with all her household duties. I would like you to offer her as much help as you can, Carson. We both know her very well,' she managed to put a fond smile on her face, 'she'll probably refuse any help, saying she can manage, but I'm sure she would appreciate your assistance. You have to insist, I'm afraid.'

Carson looked smug.

'I will milady. You can count on me. Would that be all?'

'Yes Carson. And thank you very much!'

The butler left and Violet smiled.

_There, put that in your pipe and smoke it, Elsie! _she thought.

**A/N what do you think? Please leave lots of reviews…..:-) **

*** As for Violet's mum's opinion about working classes, I didn't made that up. Aristocracy really thought so at the time. **


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**A/N Thank you for reviewing!**

Elsie had just finished her letter to Jean. They had been good friends at the time, and Jean being sent away in shame hadn't changed things for them. Jean had had a hard time as an unmarried mother, and she had even had to put her daughter in a home for two years…Elsie had kept writing and sent money if she could miss it…and really, what else should she have spent it on.

She shook her head to chase away that ugly thought, but couldn't help the tears stinging her eyes. While addressing the envelope they began rolling down her cheeks, and she wiped them away angrily.

Well, at last something good was about to happen to Jean and her girl, she thought. Some of the faithful stable men, if she'd be able to locate them, could receive a surprise, but for now she had enough to deal with, she decided.

She hadn't quite finished the thought and there was the well known knock on her door, followed by Mr Carson entering.

'Good evening Mrs Hughes. I thought we might share a cup of tea,' he said.

'Yes, thank you Mr Carson,' she said and smiled behind her hand at his obvious shock.

After being on her feet all day, Elsie had removed her shoes with a sigh of relieve, and put her stockinged feet up a stool. That frivolous sight had made him rattle the tea tray.

'I'm sorry Mr Carson, I've had a long day,' she said, but she got up to sit at the table with him, to avoid further embarrassment. However often she found herself irritated by his all too formal behaviour, she had to admit she liked the man. She actually was very fond of him and loved to tease him a bit, when the occasion occurred.

He fixed her a cup of tea exactly the way she liked it, and handed it to her. For a woman who was used to look after herself, even a small gesture like that felt nice.

'Thank you Mr Carson,' she smiled warmly.

'I had a short conversation with the Dowager Countess this afternoon,' he said, while placing a small dish carrying her favourite biscuits on the table.

'Did you?'

'I did indeed. She informed me about the task she has placed upon you, and she seemed to worry it might take too much of your time. So she asked me to assist you.'

She gaped at him.

'With lady Edith's birthday party,' he reminded her.

'Oh yes. Of course. That…that is going quite well Mr Carson, I can manage, it is very kind of you to offer your help but I am fine, I really am,' she said.

He offered a friendly, knowing smile.

'The Dowager Countess knows you really well, she predicted you would say that,' he informed her, 'and she told me I had to insist, because you're a busy woman and would appreciate my help, even if you try to assure me you can manage alone. So I insist, Mrs Hughes.'

She felt her face grow hot.

'It's going quite well Mr Carson, you don't need to worry, I appreciate the offer but I am perfectly able to manage on my own, I really am,' she said once more.

'And I am quite sure you are, Mrs Hughes.'

His deep voice sounded ominous and she was horrified.

'Because four months ago, His Lordship told me about the intention to give a party for Lady Edith's birthday during the family's stay in Scotland.'

She buried her face in her hands.

'So, Mrs Hughes, I would like to know what it is the Dowager insists I help you with.'

**A/N please, tell me what you think **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**A/N Thank you for staying with me. I wanted to update sooner but things got in the way, life and all that… you know. Nothing is mine, except Jean and Margaret I suppose. Read and enjoy! **

'I can't tell you,' she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

'You can trust me Mrs Hughes, you know that, don't you?' Carson said earnestly.

'Yes I know, but I just can't tell you about this. Please, believe me.'

He took her hand. 'Mrs Hughes, believe it or not, I am at your side in this. The dowager can be quite the manipulator and as much as I respect her, I don't want you to suffer because of her scheming.'

Totally bewildered and speechless, she could only stare at him.

He smiled and gently squeezed her hand. She felt sparks.

'It's our duty to make this household run smoothly, Mrs Hughes,' he informed her, 'and an upset housekeeper does not do well. So, would you please tell me what's wrong?'

She bit back bitter tears of disappointment. Again. Just for a moment she'd thought he actually cared about her, but of course it was all about The Family. She should have known.

'That is…you're right,' she tried to be in control, 'but I can't tell you. I'm sorry, I just can't, you would think…'

Mr Carson saw the trace of horror in her eyes and he was shocked. Mrs Hughes, the sensible housekeeper and one of the few people he considered a friend, seemed to be afraid of him because something the Dowager Countess wanted. He squeezed her hands again.

'That's fine, you don't have to tell me now, or anytime at all when you're not ready. Just do not forget I am at your side, will you promise me that?'

'Yes Mr Carson,' she said, feeling unhappy.

'Good. I'll go make my final rounds then. Good night, Mrs Hughes,' he said and left her sitting room.

Elsie swallowed. She went to put her letter in the morning post box and went to bed, feeling

~oOo~

Mr Carson marched through corridors, checking locks and windows and trying to understand himself. The more he analyzed the conversation, the more he realized he'd made a mess of it, again. Instead of telling her how much she meant to him, he had been droning on about duties and the household, like many times before. Carson, you stupid fool, he scolded himself.

~oOo~

Four days later Elsie received a letter from Jean. When Mr Carson handed out the mail after breakfast, she'd put it in her pocket like she always did, saving it for the evening, when she would be alone in her sitting room, with tea and some biscuits and a nice fire. The Dowager Countess would visit the next day, so she would be ready.

After dinner she retreated and opened the letter.

_Dearest Elsie,_

_Your letter was something of a surprise I have to say, although I'm always glad to hear from you. I can't imagine why you would wish to have a portrait of Margaret, other than that she's a pretty girl. But I liked the idea, and so we went to see the best photographer and had her picture taken. I enclose a copy for you, as you requested. In answer to your other questions; I am sorry to inform you McKellar died three weeks ago. Our marriage was more convenience than love, you know all about that, but we got along fine and I miss him. So I'm a widow now. However, McKellar left us a thriving shop and with young Gerald in charge we're doing well. Margaret is currently working as a secretary. She likes the job, even though she's still disappointed about her missed change at university, but she understands and accepts it, the brave girl. _

_Elsie darling, I trust this letter finds you well, and I hope to hear from you very soon,_

_With love, your Jean._

Mrs Hughes folded the letter and picked up the photograph. Margaret was indeed a pretty woman, but more important, she was almost like a twin to Lady Rosamund; her half sister.

~oOo~

'You sent for me, Milady?' Elsie said.

'I did,' the Dowager answered curtly. 'What do you want?'

'It's about Lord Grantham's and Lady Rosamund's half sister,' she said.

'What!' the dowager looked like a fire breathing dragon.

'Their half sister,' Elsie repeated. 'I told you about Jean, you didn't remember her although his Lordship knew her very well. Milady.'

Lady Grantham waved her hand impatiently.

'Just tell me what this is about please. I am busy!'

'Yes, milady. Jean was the maid who fell pregnant by your husband and was sent away, surely you remember that.'

'Oh, maids been sent away, I remember that, it happens so often, they frolic around with the hall boys and who else.'

'This is a photograph of Jean's daughter,' Elsie said and held the photo under the Dowager's nose without waiting for an answer. The old lady gasped for air and looked closer at the photograph, raised from her chair and walked up to the window to have a better view.

'This is…this has to be a forgery!' she protested, but without her usual aplomb.

Elsie ignored that remark. 'Her name is Margaret,' she said, while the old lady kept staring at the photograph. 'Jean was fortunate enough to marry a kind man. Margaret was sent to the best school in her county, because she was a brilliant student. Solely on her study results she was accepted at Oxford university, but the college money proved to be a problem. That's where you will make the difference Milady,' Elsie found she was enjoying this almost too much.

'Margaret is Lord Grantham's and lady Rosamund's half sister, your husband's daughter. She endeavours to be one of the first female physicians. Oxford would welcome her,' Elsie finished.

'So it's just money you want,' Lady Grantham growled.

'Yes, milady.'

'For this girl Margaret's full education at Oxford?'

'Yes, Milady.'

'Well, I suppose I have no choice then. Or you will run to Mr Carlyle's offices, I expect.'

'Yes, Milady.'

'I must admit I am somewhat surprised. I had thought you might want to move yourself up in the world a bit. Buy some satin dresses and cheap jewellery, and pretend to be something.'

'I am quite happy in my current position, Milady,' Elsie answered.

'I bet you are. Has Carson offered you his help with Edith's birthday party already?'

'He did, Milady. We have some very good ideas actually, but I can't tell you anything yet, since it's a secret. Will that be all, Milady?'

'Yes. Go away.'

Mrs Hughes left and Violet threw her gloves at the floor.

Elsie went to her sitting room and closed the door. Once safely inside, she danced around her desk chair, grinning and kissing Margaret's photograph.

**A/N Thank you for reading this so far….TBC of course. I enjoy all your lovely reviews and I find it's a great way to learn new expressions in English, but sometimes I am absolutely clueless. For example, what exactly does the post **_**dun dun dun**___**mean, ?**__

**Love, george!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

**A/N Sorry for the delay, I found out that writing one's protagonist getting the flu backfires on the author. I would have this marked 'fluff alert', if I didn't think it's just the thing you all want ****! Thanks again for your support and lovely reviews! I own nothing. Here goes…**

The Dowager Countess of Grantham was in a bad mood. Her plans had fired backwards at her, something she wasn't used to. Instead of receiving her husband's private papers and being able to smooth a few issues of her past, she now found herself forced, by a servant no less, to pay for a bastard girl's education. A physician she wanted to be, and it seemed she had the potential.

Violet couldn't help herself: she was jealous. She herself had been a curious child, eager to learn, always asking why. Growing up in her position in the mid 1850's however, meant she had to content herself with learning how to speak French, play the piano and embroidery, and make herself presentable for the best possible wedding partner. She had been rebellious, hated the piano and was never to be found when it was time for her lessons. Instead she sneaked books she wasn't supposed to read from the library and hid in the hayloft above the stables. No one had ever found her. She had wanted to travel, see other places, live a real life. It suddenly occurred to her how much her granddaughter Sybil had resembled her and she felt a bitter sting of pain, but also for the first time a sense of pride. Her Sybil had done it, had lived her own life, made her own choices, she had done what Violet had wished to do so very much but wasn't able to.

Times had changed. The Earl's daughter could work as a nurse and marry the man she loved, and an Earl's bastard child could go to university.

'Thank you my darling Sybil, for making me see reason once again,' she whispered.

However, Violet feared paying for an education was only the first of a list of things the housekeeper would force her to.

She had ordered the faithful Carson to spy on the woman. Not as such of course, he had to offer her his help. Carson's devotion to the House of Grantham and its members was legendary, so she had felt sure anything amiss would be reported at once. But nothing had happened yet. And the wretched woman's remarks about how they were making plans for Edith's birthday party made her feel very uncomfortable, because there were no party plans at all. Robert told her they were going to celebrate during the family's stay in Scotland.

What was going on? Who could she trust?

~oOo~

Mrs Hughes was looking more cheerful the last two days, Carson noticed. That evening he decided to invite her to have a glass of wine with him. They did so from time to time; he always enjoyed her company.

They had a pleasant evening and a glass of excellent wine, and thus fortified Carson decided to bring more serious matter into the conversation.

'Mrs Hughes, may I ask you about your business with the Dowager? I noticed you seemed a little more light hearted these days.'

'I am quite alright thank you, Mr Carson,' she said a bit curtly. 'No need to worry.'

_Now!_ Carson heard his Inner Charles shout at him. _Tell her! _He tried to ignore the little voice but it wouldn't let itself put down this time. He hesitated one more second, two, took a deep breath and finally he felt brave enough and jumped in the deep.

'It's not just the household, Mrs Hughes. I am concerned about you. I care about you, very much.' He felt his heart race and held his breath waiting for her reaction.

'That is...that's very kind of you,' she said, looking uncertain.

Carson was ready to hit himself over the head. First he'd hurt her, and not for the first time he knew, with his blether about duty and tasks, and now he put his foot in it some more and managed to make her feel uncomfortable.

'I'm sorry if I offended you, Mrs Hughes,' he said hurriedly. 'Please forget what I said.' _That's what you get from speaking your mind, _he angrily informed The Inner. _Ruining a perfectly good friendship!_

But when he began to think of the best way to sink through the floorboards she smiled at him, a lovely, warm smile that melted his heart and made him feel lightheaded.

'You did not offend me, Mr Carson, she said. 'I care about you, too. Very much.'

Her cheeks turned pink and all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her, but instead he took her hands in his.

'Thank you, Elsie. May I call you Elsie?'

'You already did, Charles,' she smiled. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers.

'Elsie, I know I have hurt you many times by lecturing you about your place in the household and such nonsense, when what you needed was support from a friend. Please forgive me for that. My only excuse is I just did not have the courage to tell you how much you mean to me,' he said.

She squeezed his hands.

'I already forgave you, every time, because I know you Charles Carson and I know how you feel about the house and the family. But I have to admit it hurt me every time again and it made me feel so terribly alone…,' she whispered, eyes glistening with tears, '…and… unloved,' she added barely audible.

He just had to hold her now. He rose to his feet, pulled her up with him and very gently took her in his arms. She rested her face against his chest and he held her close.

'Oh Elsie, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry. Promise me you'll never think that again. I will make sure you never feel like that again. You are not alone and not unloved. …. because I love you, Elsie,' he whispered into her hair.

**A/N Awww! TBC **


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